


I Assume He'll Always Love Me

by MakeMeBurn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:09:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeMeBurn/pseuds/MakeMeBurn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this fanfic, Sherlock has fallen in love with John and he doesn't know that John is fully aware of this. Not to say John is taking advantage of Sherlock, but he knows that he just needs to show a little romantic affection to get the things that he doesn't want to do done. But what happens when John goes in a little too deep? And maybe develops feelings back? Will he lose Sherlock because he's just confusing him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Assume He'll Always Love Me

So, John knew. He wasn't stupid, he knew. Sherlock blushed, he played happy music on his violin, he smiled more, and he got easily distracted. Sherlock was in love. And it wasn't hard to figure out with who. Because John noticed. Sherlock blushed around him. And smiled more around him. And got easily distracted when he was around him. Sherlock Holmes had fallen in love with John Watson. And he fell hard. The only problem? John knew. And he didn't feel the same way.

Now, over the years there had been some things that John figured out he just hated doing. But he had to do them anyway. Dishes. Laundry. Going to the grocery. Everyday things like that. But again, like every other human being, he had to do them. But maybe, if he could get someone else to do these things for him? And he thought he knew just the person to do it. 

 

It started one day in the morgue. When Sherlock was talking with Molly about the corpse, it had occured to John that back at 221B, they needed milk. But it was such a cold winter day and he really didn't feel like going to the store. It would involve slipping on the icy sidewalks, and his fingers getting nearly frostbitten as he walked from their flat to the grocery store. He just wanted to go home and enjoy a nice fire. However, he knew someone who might be willing to do it for him. 

Sherlock's deep baritone rumbled and Molly's sweet soprano intertwined and mixed as they conversed about the new corpse. Sherlock was talking about running some sort of experiment or another because of one of his deductions or another. While Molly was talking, John took a hold of Sherlock's hand. He slid his fingers between Sherlock's and kept hold of it loosely. Sherlock glanced down at it, startled. 

"Your thoughts, Sherlock?" Molly said with a smile. 

"Um." Sherlock was blushing a deep, scarlet red spreading across his face. He stumbled over words and kept looking down at his and John's joint hands. Very, very, distracted. "Um, er. Um. Molly, you see. . . um. I w-was thinking that- er. The k-killer . . ." He trailed off, not being able to complete a single thought. There was only one word pounding through Sherlock's head. Only one thought. Only one concept-

JOHN.

With his other hand, Sherlock straightened his scarf so it was not so tight around his neck. It felt rather hot in this room already. "Thank y-you, for your time Molly." Sherlock looked her in the eye and smiled. She smiled, but that doesn't mean she didn't notice John holding Sherlock's hand and the deep blush that he was portraying. 

"You're welcome Sherlock!" She called after him and waved. He nodded as they walked outside comfortably. Calmly. Peacefully. John still hadn't let go. But he knew the exact time when he needed to. They walked outside of St. Bart's Hospital and stood on the gunmetal grey sidewalk. Sherlock was about to hail a cab when John turned around so he was facing Sherlock. 

He could hear Sherlock breathing heavily, biting his lip. John got on his tip toes so his mouth was level with Sherlock's ear.

"Would you get some milk from the grocery? We're out." John let go of Sherlock's hand at just the right time. 

"Yeah." Sherlock nodded, curls bouncing. He smiled hugely as he ran down the sidewalk to the grocery. So eager. John smiled to himself. That was innocent enough, and his experiment had worked. This was how you got Sherlock Holmes to do what you wanted. 

Sherlock came home with snowflakes in his hair and his nose rather red. But smiling none the less. He put the milk in the fridge. It was 12:30 A.M. and John was reading a book by the light in the living room. Sherlock didn't even bother changing out of his clothes, he just fell down on the couch in one swift motion. His eyes closed and his limbs were sprawled across the sofa. Within five minutes, his soft snoring filled the room. 

 

The next time John decided he was going to get things done again, it was about three days later. John had shown no more romantic advances between then and now, so it had gotten Sherlock very confused. He tossed and turned at night, trying to figure John out. His feelings were so confused. Because John would show affection, and then a moment later would act as if nothing had happened. 

He could not make sense of it. 

Or him. 

Lestrade had just texted Sherlock about a man getting killed off the exit 65 on highway 34. It was the third of this kind so far and There was nothing peculiar about the corpses. Couldn't even figure out how they died yet. But, no matter what, the corpses' lips always had a thinck coating of lipgloss on. Male or female. No one knew why. But Scotland Yard figured that Sherlock would know. So Sherlock slipped his coat on in a rush and bounced from one foot to the other as he called for John to hurry up they had to go.

John walked into the living room, but before, he sneaked a look into the kitchen. The dishes were piled up in the sink. He walked up to Sherlock and put his hands on his shoulders. Sherlock looked back at John, coming back down to Earth.

Without a word, John reached up and planted a light kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock's ocean-colored eyes stared into John's, pupils dialated. Sherlock could feel his heart beat speeding up. John . . . John had just kissed him on the cheek. And- John. JOHN. Again with the distracting thoughts and the sweaty palms. That was happening a lot around John nowadays. 

"Sherlock? Could you do the dishes before we go?" He asked sweetly. ]

"Um, y-yeah. O-okay." Sherlock said as he hurried towards the kitchen to do the dishes. He hand washed and dried every single one of them, not worrying about anything else. John just leaned on the wall as he had a relaxed smile. He waited for Sherlock to be done with the dishes so they could leave. 

Because John really hated doing dishes. 

 

This kept going on. John kept Sherlock doing what he wanted, and Sherlock kept doing what John wanted. But all of this made Sherlock more and more confused about his feelings. He didn't understand why sometimes John would pretend like none of it happened. And Sherlock still didn't know why. 

Outside, it kept just getting colder and colder. More and more layers were worn to Scotland Yard, and more and more blankets were needed in 221B at night. More often than he'd like to admit, Sherlock invited himself into John's bed, because more often than not, the heater went out in his room. John didn't complain or ask him to leave though. Because maybe he liked how whenever Sherlock fell asleep he would unknowingly hold John around the waist. They'd wake up on one side of the bed sprawled across eachother. But not complaining. 

One chilling mid-morning, John had woken up extra early for some unknown reason and discovered that he did not want to go anywhere, or do anything, that day. It was too cold outside and too dangerous to get in a cab with someone on the slippery road. 

But he figured that Sherlock probably had other ideas. Right now, however, the person in question was sitting with his legs crossed on the floor in front of the couch. He had his hands steepled under his chin, and his eyes closed. Bored probably. He always seemed to be bored when he wasn't on a case. Suddenly, John's phone rang.

Lestrade.

"Hello?" John said politely. 

"Yes, hello, John there has been a murder on 14th Street and we need Sherlock and you." Lestrade explained quickly. 

John really didn't want to go out today. "I'm sorry, Lestrade, we can't today. I'm sorry maybe tomorrow?"

"But John-" He heard over the phone. 

"Here, talk to Sherlock." John held then phone against his chest as he walked over to Sherlock in the living room. 

"Sherlock." He whispered. Sherlock looked up at him. "Can you tell Lestrade that we can't go out today?" 

"But John-" Sherlock protested. John put his fingers in Sherlock's midnight black curls and threaded his fingers around in them. Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut as he smiled. John put the phone to his ear.

"Sorry, Lestrade. We can't go out today. Can't do your case." Sherlock said, very relaxed. 

John took his hand out of Sherlock's hair and hung up. A triumphant smile on his face. This was certainly fun. He just needed to keep sure that it he didn't think it was too much fun.

 

It was all going great. Snaking an arm around Sherlock's waist to get him to do laundry when he came home. Placing his hand on Sherlock's inner thigh when he wanted to have the extra thermal blanket. 

But now there was something else. It made John feel really good to see Sherlock smile so wide when he did these little things. And sometimes when he did them, his heart now sped up. And sometimes he found himself forgetting to have something for Sherlock to do when he did these little things. He was really having fun. One thing they hadn't done yet, was kissed on the mouth. 

Odd. But true. 

They were on a case at a bar and found a booth, trying not to look conspicious. John guessed that Sherlock had never been to a bar before, because of how uneasy he seemed. 

Ever since junior high John had hated hormones and trying to control them. But this was a moment where he lost control. He smashed his lips against Sherlock's and set his hands in his hair. At first Sherlock didn't know what was happening, their teeth clacked together. He was a bit taken back at first. His eyes flew open to be fully alert. John was kissing him.

John. John. He was . . . kissing him. Sherlock relaxed and kissed back. It was deep and just a little bit desperate. Like two people who have been wanting to kiss for some time now. John enjoyed how chapped and rough Sherlock's lips were, and Sherlock enjoyed how smooth John's were. 

John's ears were burning bright red and their noses bumped. Slowly, they pulled apart, looking into eachother's eyes. Sherlock could take the confusion no longer. 

"John, do you like me?" He asked with a furrowed brow. 

"Yes," John chuckled,"I do like you, Sherlock. You're brilliant and sexy, and amazing. And I love you."

"Really?" Sherlock's mood lightened a hundred percent and he beamed. But then he shook his head, remembering that he wanted answers. "Then why do you act like nothing has happened sometimes?"

John got his coat silently, pushed back the Sherlock's hair and kissed his forehead as he started walking away. Sherlock laughed, got out of the booth and ran after him.


End file.
